


Mine

by The_Virgoan_Diaries



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Casual Sex, Co-Workers w/ Benefits, Co-workers, Dom!Barba, Drunken Kissing, Infidelity, Love Triangle, Multi, Ownership, Smut, Text messaging, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 05:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19144591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Virgoan_Diaries/pseuds/The_Virgoan_Diaries
Summary: She despised and feared and loved him all at the same time. Somehow.





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> dom!Barba is in full force.
> 
> (Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments! Enjoy!)

 Sonny.

The overzealous Italian. Enthusiastic. Tall and lean. Hair adorned with threads of metallic grey. He swaggered like a tiger. Ate like a starved horse. Grinned like a Cheshire cat.

In all, he was a sweetheart.

He had been her main companion. They made great colleagues, and even greater friends. And he always brought to her chocolate cannolis, her favorite treat, on Tuesdays.

Some few shots of rum at the bar would have complicated everything. Charmaine couldn’t remove the taste of his sweet mouth. His anxious tongue, warm and slick. His pink lips, made red from her lipstick. She relished his soft groans.

The pangs of regret had strongly been felt within the Precinct on that following Monday. She nearly died when Lieutenant Benson partnered them. She couldn’t function.

“Charmaine, you drive up to the scene with Carisi. Find some leads. Question all witnesses.”

“‘Ey, Lieu,” Sonny began to protest. “Fin ain’t doin’ much. Can’t he tag along instead?”

“I’m sure my niece can handle a standard rape case,” Fin remarked, lips curled with slight annoyance. “She  _did_ spend three years in the grittiest part of the Bronx.”

Sonny’s eyes burned. _So much for havin’ my back, Fin._

Fin had been informed about Saturday’s rendezvous, and Sonny was sure that he would have killed him. Surprisingly, though, he responded with the utmost nonchalance: “Well, I can’t kill you if she’s grown.”

Lieutenant Benson folded her arms, and sensed tension through the gap in between them. Nevertheless, she denied Sonny’s overt wish. And Charmaine’s _not_ -so-overt wish. “Carisi. Charmaine. Go.”

* * *

The stark, cold silence infused the cramped confines of the vehicle. Until she spoke, softly.

“Sonny—”

“Look, Char,” he sighed. “Let’s just forget that Saturday night ever happened, alright?”

She sighed, and watched his sad eyes melt into the congested Manhattan roads. “Alright.”

Approaching the corner of 4th Street and Broadway, she could finally breathe.

_No more dwelling on civilian problems, Charmaine. We’re at the scene._

The case hadn’t gone anywhere. Sonny became impatient with the witnesses’ feigned ignorance.

* * *

The drive back to the Precinct was just as intense.

Charmaine saw the confusion that stiffened Sonny’s shoulders.

Confusion either from Saturday night, the case, or, perhaps, both.

She was not used to this: Sonny not talking to her. Not rambling about Staten Island, updates on Gina’s life, or the overpriced Italian restaurants that his mom’s cooking always ran circles over.

And it ate at her.

Elton John’s melancholic vocals on the radio had only made the vibe worsen. 

 _ Oh, I've finally decided my future lies  _  
_Beyond the yellow brick road…_

* * *

_Ding._

Shit. How could she forget to silence this damn phone?

She scanned the freshly sent messages, anyway. Much to Sonny’s chagrin. Still, he said nothing.

The first message read:   

_Just got back from court. Lost the case. Need to blow off some steam..._

_Ding_. The second quickly followed.

_Come to the office. I have needs to fulfill. Don’t wear panties, either._

The contact name attached to the messages made her stomach coil.

Rafael.

The saucy prosecutor.

He possessed a frame relatively tiny for a man, but had been blessed with a big and unrelenting mouth to compensate. He had gotten under Charmaine’s skin, but also between her legs. He fucked like a beast. Kissed like Casanova. Gentle, but only when he wanted to be. Held a tendency for being quite possessive, too. Felt entitled to her body. Loudly proclaimed that she was his and not to be shared. 

She despised and feared and loved him all at the same time. Somehow.

But now, it seemed to be purely fear that led her up those marble steps. As weird and backwards as that sounded.

She approached the lofty stone building of 1 Hogan Place with her throat closed. Stomach agitated. She did as Rafael had clearly instructed, and left her panties scrunched into a ball, sitting behind those files in her bag. His orders were never disobeyed.

She shuddered at the mere thought of Rafael’s angry face once he would have discovered that his prized possession,  _his_  Charmaine, had been carefully touched, kissed, and enjoyed by another. 

“Hi, Detective Tutuola,” Carmen greeted, her bird-like voice slightly taming her erratic nerves. _Slightly_. “You’re visiting Counselor Barba, I suppose.” She grinned, as if she was well-aware.

As if she’d heard them fucking from outside the office. And more than once. Charmaine had prayed that they hadn’t been too loud, and to each and every deity of every faith imaginable.

“Yes. I have evidence for a warrant,” she said, with a mouth full of shit.

As if Carmen wasn’t able to filter through the lies...

As observant as _she_ was? Nothing could get past her.

Her right eyebrow, slightly cocked, said it all.

Nonetheless, Carmen lead her into the office.

“Counselor,” she announced. “Detective Tutuola is here to see you.”

* * *


End file.
